3 - Mademoiselle Laslier and Arielle ... Parallel Lives

Arielle circa 1990

         The rich and the poor cohabit differently in Paris than in most American cities.    The average neighborhood is often fairly evenly populated with residents of variable economic and educational levels.  That is, within the same block, you might find a family of immense wealth, then a few doors down the street another household living in relative poverty.   In fact, such diversity  might well be found within the same apartment building, and as a general rule it doesn't bother anyone.

     Parisians, unlike their New York counterparts, are fairly indifferent to who chooses to live across the street, just as long as they behave themselves and keep the noise down.  That does not mean that people are any less discriminating in Paris than anywhere else, they just go about it differently.

     This is the story of two women of my acquaintance, both born on my street in 1926.  Arielle and Mademoiselle Laslier.

      The former was the mother of one of my best friends, and she lived a few houses up the street.  She was born there, as was her mother.  It was her grandmother who had bought the entire six-floor building around the turn of the 20th Century.

     As for the latter (whose first name I never knew), she was born in my apartment building a few flights up.  Her father had been a respectable illustrator of religious books, but he  made just enough to make ends meet.  A fluke of politics and history at the end of the 1930's gave him the opportunity to acquire the property he had hitherto rented, so Mlle Laslier never left her family apartment.  Neither did she ever have installed a modern bath or shower, and she made do with a toilet in a closet on the landing (hence the term "water closet").  

     As surprising as it sounds, a big majority of Parisians were without private toilet or bath long after World War II ended, and when I arrived 45 years ago, there were still many, many apartments (including my own) with only the bare hygienic minimum.*

     Mlle Laslier never married (indeed, I can hardly imagine her ever having so much as a gentleman caller).  She always seemed like a very old lady to me, although she was under 60 when I arrived in the neighborhood.  She had worked for awhile as a helper at a childcare center, but was retired when I met her.   Like her father, she enjoyed drawing, and passed her hours away doing watercolors of flowers and children, which few found of any particular merit; but friends and neighbors sometimes made a token purchase.

     Her real passion was the church, and never was there a more devout churchgoer.   She went every day, sang in the choir, served soup to the poor, and visited the elderly.  I sometimes found her piousness a bit tedious, as she did tend to recount with relish all of the good deeds she had accomplished.

* * * * *

     Arielle on the other hand was of another world.   I would never have known her except through her daughter, who brought her mother to an exhibit when I started the art business; and Arielle became one of my most loyal clients --probably disappointing her numerous children and grandchildren when she would fill her entire Christmas gift list with little drawings purchased from me.  

     She was an extremely elegant woman, an understated, impeccable dresser, and her home reflected the same elegance.  When I had known her for only a few months, she telephoned to invite me for coffee one Sunday afternoon.    She said she was in the process of re-doing her living room, wanted to rearrange her paintings, and would love for me to show her how to do it in what she described as my "more creative manner."

     I have probably never been so flattered.  We became friends after that.  

     Arielle was a champion bridge player, and when I took up the game, she would occasionally play with me in tournaments, despite being in a totally different league.   She was known all over Paris as an exceptional player, and I was always immensely proud to enter a club with her as my partner.

     She had been diagnosed with an early Parkinsons, and after I left UNESCO, when the disease had begun to take its toll, I spent more and more afternoons with her at a neighborhood bridge club.

 * * * * *

     So Arielle and Mlle Laslier were born, spent their childhood, in fact lived their entire lives just a few doors apart.  They had at some point gone to the same primary school, attended the same church, albeit a very large one.   They had queued for their croissants at the same bakers,  perhaps even danced in the same street when the Americans liberated Paris in 1945. 

     As old women they had gone to the same pharmacies, maybe even consulted some of the same neighorhood doctors.   But.    Neither was ever aware of the other's existence.  I am sure of this because I knew them both well, and I asked them.  One day I was walking in the street with Arielle when I saw Mlle Laslier approaching.  I asked Arielle, and she confirmed that she had never seen her before in all her life!

     Last year, at 87, they  died within a few months of each other.   I attended both funerals at the local Eglise de la Trinité.  One was full to capacity, the other had only a few attendees, mostly from our building.

     .... And never the twain shall meet.

 *In 1962, only 29% of French households possessed a private bath or shower (source:  Europe 1).

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

 Arielle is also featured in "Introducing Monsieur Gerard" Musings and Meanderings No. 7  (to access, click on highlighted title).